As mentioned previously, I have completed the Asperger Syndrome Employment Workbook. The third part of the book (the biography) is divided into chapters. The first chapter contains a variety of facts about the three jobs described, I won't summarize that here, as its main purpose (for me at least) was to refresh my memory.
The second chapter is about social skills. Again, I had to go through the three selected jobs. The first job was my first job out of college, the second was a job I held 14 years ago, and the third is the job I am holding for another 9 days (a.k.a. my current job).
In my first job, almost 20 years ago, I was good at greeting, I was considerate of others, good at helping others and doing favours. I was good at offering thanks and at being honest/frank. My personal appearance was good, and so was my awareness of other's physical space. I was good at staying on a topic, including staying too long on a topic. I knew who to ask for help, and I was able to request change to conditions and procedures. I had a good choice of work associates.
On the other side of things, I was poor at showing respect to my superiors - they found me arrogant. My expression of emotion was poor, and biased towards negative emotions. I also had a poor awareness of how safe people felt around me. I failed everything in the not-so-honest department: social lies, making up stories, factual lies. My humour was poor (except with one co-worker who shared my interests). I had no physical contact with others, poor eye contact and voice level. My choice of words and phrases was poor. I was not good at knowing how and when to ask for help. My response to criticism was poor (and dramatic). I was poor at social conversations and discussion of personal and intimate matters, both during work and during breaks. My attitude fitted poorly in with others and I was poor at socialising both on and off the job. I had poor understanding of the unwritten rules and a poor etiquette of reporting problems.
Note about the social conversations: I managed to have lunch break with my co-workers every day for 14 months and I never uttered a word.
Six years later, in my second selected job, I had improved in showing emotions, my humour was better, my voice level had improved, and so had my ability to know how to ask for help. The most significant improvement was in the field of social conversations at work and during breaks. I did talk to my co-workers! The thing is, I am introvert and I feel insecure at times, but I am not actually shy. In my first job, however, I must have appeared very shy...
My last selected job, my current position, is difficult to describe using the book. Because it was almost two jobs. One before the merger and one after. In the category of asking for help, I found it easy to ask for help before the merger, while it became extremely difficult after. My own skills don't appear to have changed over the 14 years.
The impact of the merger on my ability to know how, when and who to ask for help is important in understanding my social skills, in particular my lack of social skills. It appears that my social skills are much better when I feel secure, when the workplace enables my social skills. When I fail socially, I fail because I am not in an enabling environment. So my social skills are not always poor, their weaknesses are only exposed by dysfunctional environments. This is a very important message to myself, also in my next job.
Showing posts with label social conduct. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social conduct. Show all posts
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Sunday, 21 July 2013
Introversion
"NO! - You are not introvert!" My friend exclaimed. As if I'd been telling her I was ugly og stupid. I tried to explain, as calmly as I could, why I thought I was indeed introvert. But she persisted. I definitely wasn't introvert. I gave up.
I've worked with this woman for many years. She is brilliant at keeping contact to friends and colleagues, she's always up-to-date with peoples carriers and personal lives. She is good humoured and pleasant company. She knew me when I was seeing my ex, W - the aspie. And the subject of introversion came up during our lunch together because she asked me about W, if I knew what he was doing now (I don't). We talked about why I'd been with him in the first place, and the topic of his extreme introversion came up. I explained that him being so introvert had caused me to be more extrovert, despite being introvert myself. And that was when I was interrupted. Because this woman, whom I haven't seen for about a year and never been very close with, obviously know me better than I know myself.
Why am I bothered? Well, it is annoying to be interrupted, and to be contradicted on a topic that I should be an expert on (the topic being myself). But, hey, shit happens. What really bothers me is that introversion apparently is so bad. If I'd said: I am actually a brunette, I just dye my hair; or: I think I am gay; or: I voted for the Social Democrats last time, she would just have said: OK (neither of these things are true though). And to me, being introvert is just as fine as being gay, brunette, or social democrat. It is just different from mainstream.
But we live in a world defined by extroverts, which is why people find the introvert behaviour odd. I think the illustration of introverts as someone being (or preferring to be) inside a hamster ball is wonderful. I saw it on facebook, and also found it here: http://randomtidbitsofthought.wordpress.com/2012/08/30/how-to-live-with-introverts-guide/ Although I should mention that I've seen hamsters in a wheel but never in a ball or a bubble... The key message, about the difference in how people acquire - and lose - energy. I get energy from being on my own, I lose energy when being with others. I lose much more energy when being at a party, in a noisy café, at a reception, and with lots of strangers, compared to being at home with a few close friends. But even if my social life consisted only of few close friends having supper at my house, I would still need the time alone.
From looking at aspies around me, I have developed the hypothesis that not all introverts are aspies, but most aspies are introverts.
I've worked with this woman for many years. She is brilliant at keeping contact to friends and colleagues, she's always up-to-date with peoples carriers and personal lives. She is good humoured and pleasant company. She knew me when I was seeing my ex, W - the aspie. And the subject of introversion came up during our lunch together because she asked me about W, if I knew what he was doing now (I don't). We talked about why I'd been with him in the first place, and the topic of his extreme introversion came up. I explained that him being so introvert had caused me to be more extrovert, despite being introvert myself. And that was when I was interrupted. Because this woman, whom I haven't seen for about a year and never been very close with, obviously know me better than I know myself.
Why am I bothered? Well, it is annoying to be interrupted, and to be contradicted on a topic that I should be an expert on (the topic being myself). But, hey, shit happens. What really bothers me is that introversion apparently is so bad. If I'd said: I am actually a brunette, I just dye my hair; or: I think I am gay; or: I voted for the Social Democrats last time, she would just have said: OK (neither of these things are true though). And to me, being introvert is just as fine as being gay, brunette, or social democrat. It is just different from mainstream.
But we live in a world defined by extroverts, which is why people find the introvert behaviour odd. I think the illustration of introverts as someone being (or preferring to be) inside a hamster ball is wonderful. I saw it on facebook, and also found it here: http://randomtidbitsofthought.wordpress.com/2012/08/30/how-to-live-with-introverts-guide/ Although I should mention that I've seen hamsters in a wheel but never in a ball or a bubble... The key message, about the difference in how people acquire - and lose - energy. I get energy from being on my own, I lose energy when being with others. I lose much more energy when being at a party, in a noisy café, at a reception, and with lots of strangers, compared to being at home with a few close friends. But even if my social life consisted only of few close friends having supper at my house, I would still need the time alone.
From looking at aspies around me, I have developed the hypothesis that not all introverts are aspies, but most aspies are introverts.
Thursday, 9 May 2013
Please stop being so sensitive!
I overheard these words on the street yesterday. Some American tourists I think, a group of young women visiting Copenhagen, complete with city maps and cameras.
One of the women was walking a few meters away from the others, and she did indeed look a bit sullen. The others ( three or four) walked close together and it was from that group I heard those words being shouted at the sullen one.
Of course I resisted my urge to ask the shouting person: If she knew how to do that, she probably would've done it long ago, don't you think?
In fact that was the reply I should have given when people told me the exact same thing. You can't ask people to stop 'being' what they are. I can't ask my son to be less odd. I can't ask myself to be more relaxed, less sensitive. It is like asking people to take off their hat, only that it isn't. We can wear traits as a hat, if we choose to. And take it off as well. If I am afraid somebody would trespass my boundaries, I'd put on aloofness as a hat. But the aloofness that is inside me is there always, and that I can't take off.
Instead of telling other people that they should stop being what they are, perhaps we should stop judging them by our own standards and instead try and embrace the heterogeneity of people and their personalities.
One of the women was walking a few meters away from the others, and she did indeed look a bit sullen. The others ( three or four) walked close together and it was from that group I heard those words being shouted at the sullen one.
Of course I resisted my urge to ask the shouting person: If she knew how to do that, she probably would've done it long ago, don't you think?
In fact that was the reply I should have given when people told me the exact same thing. You can't ask people to stop 'being' what they are. I can't ask my son to be less odd. I can't ask myself to be more relaxed, less sensitive. It is like asking people to take off their hat, only that it isn't. We can wear traits as a hat, if we choose to. And take it off as well. If I am afraid somebody would trespass my boundaries, I'd put on aloofness as a hat. But the aloofness that is inside me is there always, and that I can't take off.
Instead of telling other people that they should stop being what they are, perhaps we should stop judging them by our own standards and instead try and embrace the heterogeneity of people and their personalities.
Sunday, 14 April 2013
Theory of Mind
I just googled 'theory of mind'. It appears that autistic people don't develop this or develop it insufficiently. I have no intentions to generalise, but I know what it's like for me.
I used to think - as a kid - that everybody else functioned like myself. I felt deceived if people disagreed with me, and I couldn't understand that their reaction was different from mine.
When I grew older, I realised that everybody else were perfect. I was the only imperfect one. They always knew what to say and what to do, and I didn't. If colleague A says: I am scared of being fired, it is not a sign of weakness, rather it is because exposing weakness is the right thing to do. If family member B talks about a newly deceased and says 'I don't know what to say to the relatives' - then that is the way to react, and the correct amount of sharing. When female friend C complains about her husband, she does so in the right setting and the right amount. Somehow the correct way of sharing/exposing weakness/revealing private information has been implanted in their brains, and they just DO the right thing, without endless considerations of what the right thing is. Those considerations are mine. I am (still) the only imperfect one. But recently I have suggested to myself that others may be as imperfect.
This discovery (too big a word there, 'suggestion' is better) is very difficult to get my head around. When I am in a social situation I still (firmly) believe that all others are perfect. But on my way home on my bicycle, while debriefing myself from the social interactions of the day, it sometimes occur to me that A, B and C perhaps were as insecure - or almost as insecure - of what they should say or do in the social situation as I was.
I appear to have considered other people as some kind of astronomical objects, sticking firmly to their path, which they can see clearly. While I haven't had a path of my own, and I also haven't been able to see theirs. I am the blind spaceship, floating about, sometimes colliding with the stoic planets or crossing their path in an inconvenient way. But most of the time I have been able to fly more or less on someone else's path, safe until I accidentally left it.
Until now I haven't really been interested in what happened inside other people's heads.
The reason for this is:
I used to think - as a kid - that everybody else functioned like myself. I felt deceived if people disagreed with me, and I couldn't understand that their reaction was different from mine.
When I grew older, I realised that everybody else were perfect. I was the only imperfect one. They always knew what to say and what to do, and I didn't. If colleague A says: I am scared of being fired, it is not a sign of weakness, rather it is because exposing weakness is the right thing to do. If family member B talks about a newly deceased and says 'I don't know what to say to the relatives' - then that is the way to react, and the correct amount of sharing. When female friend C complains about her husband, she does so in the right setting and the right amount. Somehow the correct way of sharing/exposing weakness/revealing private information has been implanted in their brains, and they just DO the right thing, without endless considerations of what the right thing is. Those considerations are mine. I am (still) the only imperfect one. But recently I have suggested to myself that others may be as imperfect.
This discovery (too big a word there, 'suggestion' is better) is very difficult to get my head around. When I am in a social situation I still (firmly) believe that all others are perfect. But on my way home on my bicycle, while debriefing myself from the social interactions of the day, it sometimes occur to me that A, B and C perhaps were as insecure - or almost as insecure - of what they should say or do in the social situation as I was.
I appear to have considered other people as some kind of astronomical objects, sticking firmly to their path, which they can see clearly. While I haven't had a path of my own, and I also haven't been able to see theirs. I am the blind spaceship, floating about, sometimes colliding with the stoic planets or crossing their path in an inconvenient way. But most of the time I have been able to fly more or less on someone else's path, safe until I accidentally left it.
Until now I haven't really been interested in what happened inside other people's heads.
The reason for this is:
- Either that I've been too busy always trying to fit in and haven't had the resources to figure out what was going on in everybody elses heads
- Or that I am basically too self-absorbed to be interested in what happens inside other people's heads. I am not narcissistic because I clearly see my own flaws, but I find those flaws much more interesting than trying to comprehend the almost incomprehensible.
My discovery - that they may not be so perfect after all - still doesn't give me a clue as to what actually does happen inside their heads. So I am not really closer to that theory of mind...
Thursday, 14 March 2013
J.O.M.O.
There are vices and virtues of being on a business trip. On the down side is the travelling and sleeping in hotel beds. The past two days I have become aware of some of the virtues. I am currently in another country, for a meeting, followed by a conference. It is part of the job to attend conferences - about once a year. Recently I have turned the vicious part of conference attendance into a virtue. The breaks. The meals. The conference dinner.
During this trip I was paging through a free magazine on the train. There was an article on new trends. It said that the old trend of fear of missing out (F.O.M.O.) has been overtaken by a new one: JOY of missing out: J.O.M.O. - and that is what it is! My newfound pleasure... At the conference, when the session ends, I head for the coffee, and - while staring at my phone or a piece of paper in order to avoid contact - I find a place where I can sit alone. I skipped the conference dinner, said I had to work, walked to town, bought a sandwich, and thoroughly ENJOY sitting in my hotel room, missing out on all the chit-chat. I am being unfair, conference dinners can involve interesting scientific discussions. But I can't concentrate when more than one person is talking at the same time. So to me it might as well be chit-chat.
I know that missing out on purpose is not compliant to social code. Therefore I had no answer when some of the people I had a meeting with yesterday exclaimed: 'I'll walk with you!' when I said I'd rather walk than drive to my hotel. So I walked with them. I wonder if NT people are as anxious about what to talk about when they foresee that they have to spend time with other people?
During this trip I was paging through a free magazine on the train. There was an article on new trends. It said that the old trend of fear of missing out (F.O.M.O.) has been overtaken by a new one: JOY of missing out: J.O.M.O. - and that is what it is! My newfound pleasure... At the conference, when the session ends, I head for the coffee, and - while staring at my phone or a piece of paper in order to avoid contact - I find a place where I can sit alone. I skipped the conference dinner, said I had to work, walked to town, bought a sandwich, and thoroughly ENJOY sitting in my hotel room, missing out on all the chit-chat. I am being unfair, conference dinners can involve interesting scientific discussions. But I can't concentrate when more than one person is talking at the same time. So to me it might as well be chit-chat.
I know that missing out on purpose is not compliant to social code. Therefore I had no answer when some of the people I had a meeting with yesterday exclaimed: 'I'll walk with you!' when I said I'd rather walk than drive to my hotel. So I walked with them. I wonder if NT people are as anxious about what to talk about when they foresee that they have to spend time with other people?
Sunday, 3 March 2013
Being oblong
My ex-husband used to say to me: You've got oblong feet. Oblong meaning that they had a weird shape such that they didn't fit into normal shoes my size. I've discovered that this feature does not only apply to my feet, but to my everything.
About once a week or so, usually during a meal in my family, I feel oblong. I say something which may not be disastrous by any means, but it just doesn't fit nicely into the conversation. It happens at work quite often, that I say or do something that is just a little off the point. And I realise, sometimes immediately after, sometimes up to several years after the incident.
Sometimes my being oblong is so embarrasing (seen in retrospect), that I feel permanently awkward when thinking about it. I see it as a defeat, and I never forget my defeats.
Sometimes my husband says: What do you want to do? And quite often I reply: I don't know. Being around other people is part of life. But I only feel not-oblong when I am alone. I like being around other people (some other people at least - and in small doses), but it is demanding because I am oblong.
About once a week or so, usually during a meal in my family, I feel oblong. I say something which may not be disastrous by any means, but it just doesn't fit nicely into the conversation. It happens at work quite often, that I say or do something that is just a little off the point. And I realise, sometimes immediately after, sometimes up to several years after the incident.
Sometimes my being oblong is so embarrasing (seen in retrospect), that I feel permanently awkward when thinking about it. I see it as a defeat, and I never forget my defeats.
Sometimes my husband says: What do you want to do? And quite often I reply: I don't know. Being around other people is part of life. But I only feel not-oblong when I am alone. I like being around other people (some other people at least - and in small doses), but it is demanding because I am oblong.
Monday, 17 December 2012
Tolerance
I've met quite a few people who probably qualify for an Asperger diagnosis. My mother for one. My brother for two. Etc. Two of the five women I consider my friends, have a lot of traits, too.
When I first started thinking my youngest son probably was an aspie, I was seeing W, who most likely IS an aspie. At that time my excellent student worker completed his education and we had to hire somebody else. I was at the interview when C applied for the job. I despised him, but my superior said his grades were brilliant and we had to hire him. I really disliked C. He was weird, aloof, and strangely immature. But he was also very bright, ambitious, and very good at computer programming stuff. In fact he was so good, that I had to do the menial work myself and think hard to come up with tasks that matched his competences.
I was irritated with C for almost all the time he was my student worker. Towards the end of his employment with us (he also completed his education), my irritation faded and eventually I almost liked him. He must have been Asperger.
Some time later, a woman applied for a job - a position similar to mine. I was again at the interview, this time with another superior and a close colleague. The woman, H, talked constantly for an hour. And said some weird things along the way. She had a strange expression on her face. She behaved like a robot and didn't notice when we were indicating that we wanted to leave. She also had the strangest CV I've ever seen. She had nurse training I think, a Masters degree in a foreign language and a PhD in science. She had changed jobs constantly. After the interview, which mostly consisted of H talking, my colleague and I just wanted to go back to work. We said she was strange, but, well, qualified. And my superior was anxious to get the 'problem' off his back. So we hired her, it seemed the easiest solution at the time. Regrettably, because a few months later, she and I shared an office. And I was annoyed beyond description. She couldn't understand 'signals' at all. Such as: When I sit and stare into my computer and look concentrated, almost angry, it means that I am concentrating on what I do and I prefer not to be disturbed. When I also put on big earphones, it means that I really really don't want to be disturbed. Of course, H must have been Asperger. And I was truly irritated with her.
I am not irritated with all aspies. I love my two dear female friends. I find Sheldon of the Big Bang Theory amusing, and only a bit irritating. I dated an Aspie for more than four years. In fact, I must have loved him. But when all the traits (my traits?) present themselves in one person, I feel very strongly (negative) about it. I remember the overwhelming irritation from my childhood, when my brother again said something that to me seemed inappropriate. And when my mother was weird, and seemed proud of it. And both C and H provoked a strong physical sense of irritation.
Why? Clearly I am reminded of my own defeats, when I did something similar (said something strange, inappropriate, or incomprehensible), and as soon as I heard the words I knew they were wrong. Or when I was aloof without knowing it, and people closed down. Or when I was immature. Or when I didn't get the signal. Etc.
Sorry C, H, mother, brother, and others. It wasn't you. It was me. I wasn't irritated with you. I was irritated with myself. Now I will be more tolerant. With you all. Including myself.
When I first started thinking my youngest son probably was an aspie, I was seeing W, who most likely IS an aspie. At that time my excellent student worker completed his education and we had to hire somebody else. I was at the interview when C applied for the job. I despised him, but my superior said his grades were brilliant and we had to hire him. I really disliked C. He was weird, aloof, and strangely immature. But he was also very bright, ambitious, and very good at computer programming stuff. In fact he was so good, that I had to do the menial work myself and think hard to come up with tasks that matched his competences.
I was irritated with C for almost all the time he was my student worker. Towards the end of his employment with us (he also completed his education), my irritation faded and eventually I almost liked him. He must have been Asperger.
Some time later, a woman applied for a job - a position similar to mine. I was again at the interview, this time with another superior and a close colleague. The woman, H, talked constantly for an hour. And said some weird things along the way. She had a strange expression on her face. She behaved like a robot and didn't notice when we were indicating that we wanted to leave. She also had the strangest CV I've ever seen. She had nurse training I think, a Masters degree in a foreign language and a PhD in science. She had changed jobs constantly. After the interview, which mostly consisted of H talking, my colleague and I just wanted to go back to work. We said she was strange, but, well, qualified. And my superior was anxious to get the 'problem' off his back. So we hired her, it seemed the easiest solution at the time. Regrettably, because a few months later, she and I shared an office. And I was annoyed beyond description. She couldn't understand 'signals' at all. Such as: When I sit and stare into my computer and look concentrated, almost angry, it means that I am concentrating on what I do and I prefer not to be disturbed. When I also put on big earphones, it means that I really really don't want to be disturbed. Of course, H must have been Asperger. And I was truly irritated with her.
I am not irritated with all aspies. I love my two dear female friends. I find Sheldon of the Big Bang Theory amusing, and only a bit irritating. I dated an Aspie for more than four years. In fact, I must have loved him. But when all the traits (my traits?) present themselves in one person, I feel very strongly (negative) about it. I remember the overwhelming irritation from my childhood, when my brother again said something that to me seemed inappropriate. And when my mother was weird, and seemed proud of it. And both C and H provoked a strong physical sense of irritation.
Why? Clearly I am reminded of my own defeats, when I did something similar (said something strange, inappropriate, or incomprehensible), and as soon as I heard the words I knew they were wrong. Or when I was aloof without knowing it, and people closed down. Or when I was immature. Or when I didn't get the signal. Etc.
Sorry C, H, mother, brother, and others. It wasn't you. It was me. I wasn't irritated with you. I was irritated with myself. Now I will be more tolerant. With you all. Including myself.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
Taking things literally
I often think far too much about what people mean, or, rather, if they actually mean what they say. But the thinking, constantly being on guard demands a lot of resources from me, so I tend not to. I prefer spending my resources on something more constructively (such as research).
And then things like this happens:
The other person: 'Wow it was so great to see you, we must meet again soon, it is such a pity we never get to see each other!'
Me: 'Great, I agree, let me get my diary... what about next week Saturday?'
The other person: 'Oh I didn't bring my diary, but I'll text you as soon as I get home'
Then follows several weeks of silence
Text from me: 'Should we have coffee one day?'
More silence
And things like this:
I talk about my cooking for several people, or I bake a cake for work.
The other person: 'Oh we have this function coming up, can we hire you for the cooking?'
Me: 'I'll be delighted. I love cooking and arranging'
The other person: 'Really? Are you serious? It's a lot of work?'
Me: 'I am serious. I really do enjoy it. When is it?'
After some months:
Me: 'So, should I cook for your anniversary/birthday/...?'
The other person (looking puzzled): 'Oh I thought it was too much work, I hired someone to do it'
And things like people saying things they don't mean or things that are not true. And when I ask: why did you say that, they say: 'For fun'
But I don't get the fun. On the other hand, I also don't get jokes most of the time.
What I don't understand is:
1. Why do people say things they don't really mean?
2. How do I know, if what they say is true and I can act accordingly, or if it's not true?
And then things like this happens:
The other person: 'Wow it was so great to see you, we must meet again soon, it is such a pity we never get to see each other!'
Me: 'Great, I agree, let me get my diary... what about next week Saturday?'
The other person: 'Oh I didn't bring my diary, but I'll text you as soon as I get home'
Then follows several weeks of silence
Text from me: 'Should we have coffee one day?'
More silence
And things like this:
I talk about my cooking for several people, or I bake a cake for work.
The other person: 'Oh we have this function coming up, can we hire you for the cooking?'
Me: 'I'll be delighted. I love cooking and arranging'
The other person: 'Really? Are you serious? It's a lot of work?'
Me: 'I am serious. I really do enjoy it. When is it?'
After some months:
Me: 'So, should I cook for your anniversary/birthday/...?'
The other person (looking puzzled): 'Oh I thought it was too much work, I hired someone to do it'
And things like people saying things they don't mean or things that are not true. And when I ask: why did you say that, they say: 'For fun'
But I don't get the fun. On the other hand, I also don't get jokes most of the time.
What I don't understand is:
1. Why do people say things they don't really mean?
2. How do I know, if what they say is true and I can act accordingly, or if it's not true?
Sunday, 11 November 2012
Small talk
Small talk is difficult. Much worse than sudoku. Because there is not one solution to the problem. And when I've managed to small talk for twenty minutes I am awarded... some more small talk.
I really enjoy hearing about other people's work. In particular researchers, but also other areas of work. If I am at a function and people start talking about their work, I am home free. I relax and respond to whatever they are telling me.
When the person I am talking to chooses another subject than work, it becomes slightly more difficult. Because we engage in some sort of dialogue, that I am not comfortable with. If we talk about his/her family or relationship issues I don't know if I am supposed to
I really enjoy hearing about other people's work. In particular researchers, but also other areas of work. If I am at a function and people start talking about their work, I am home free. I relax and respond to whatever they are telling me.
When the person I am talking to chooses another subject than work, it becomes slightly more difficult. Because we engage in some sort of dialogue, that I am not comfortable with. If we talk about his/her family or relationship issues I don't know if I am supposed to
- just listen and add one-syllable exlamations at strategic times
- offer my own opinion: 'I don't think it is that bad', or 'could they have misunderstood you'
- contribute with my own experiences in the field
When I follow strategy 1., the conversation usually dies. When I follow strategy 2., either I agree and act sympathetic towards the other person, and then the conversation dies; or I offer another perspective, which very often is not well received. If I follow strategy 3., I often monopolise the conversation, because I don't know exactly when to stop.
I like to run. The past 6 or 7 years I have run regularly with colleagues wherever I have worked. And while I enjoy the running, and in fact also the company, I dread the conversation. If somebody very talkative joins the running team I am relieved. Because then he or she can do the talking. If something interesting is happening at work (a poor manager, a merger), we can talk about that. But very often there is simply not enough to talk about for approximately half an hour. These days I mostly run with one person from work. This guy happens to be the person I also work with in the only project where I work with others. And while I have nothing bad to say about him, I have virtually nothing to say TO him. He seems a nice person, very laid-back. And not very talkative. I've started to dread the running. And it is nothing personal. I just don't know what to talk about. We can't talk about our common project for half an hour. And I am sure we've been around workplace issues and normal small-talk issues more than once. I sometimes tell the same story again in a sort of panic.
I've decided I need a longer list of 'safe' topics for small talk. Not only the running of course, but also for parties and other functions where I am supposed to talk to people I am not comfortable with. My list so far:
- The weather
- Food
- Holidays
- People's clothes, jewelery etc (not that I have any interest but it buys me some 30 seconds)
And there's someting else I would like to know: When I bake or cook for others and they compliment my results, they often ask for the recipe. Is this small-talk or do they really want the recipe?
Saturday, 27 October 2012
Algorithms
There is no such thing as random. There is always an algorithm. Perhaps it is so complicated that it appears random, but I know that there must be an algorithm somewhere.
In the gym, I usually do my cardio exercise on the step master. I recently discovered that one of the exercises you can choose is called 'around the world'. The impact varies according to mountains and sights in the continents I 'visit'. E.g. going through Sahara is low impact, while the Eiffel Tower is one narrow peak with high impact. Now I am trying to deduce the algorithm...
In the gym, I usually do my cardio exercise on the step master. I recently discovered that one of the exercises you can choose is called 'around the world'. The impact varies according to mountains and sights in the continents I 'visit'. E.g. going through Sahara is low impact, while the Eiffel Tower is one narrow peak with high impact. Now I am trying to deduce the algorithm...
- There are six continents: South America, North America, Europe, Africa, Asia and Oceana.
- The workout does not always start in South America but could start anywhere on the list. The order of continents remains the same.
- A 25 minute workout and a 30 minute workout visit three continents. 9 minutes in the first, 10 minutes in the second and the remainder in the third.
- A 53 minute workout (which I did today) visit all six continents, 4'20'' in the first, and ten minutes in the others except of course for the last one, which lasts a little less.
- Thus below a threshold this workout visits only a subset of continents, and above the threshold all six.
Next step is of course to deduce the threshold. Maybe there is more than one threshold, the likely thing is that 50-60 minutes equals 6 continents, 40-50 equals 5, etc. So what's with the 9-10-11 minutes versus the something-10-10-10-10-something? I got to go on the step master till I've figured it out!
OK computer algorithms are easy because I know that they are there. Other algorithms are much more difficult. (Heaven forbid that they simply don't exist)
First time you meet a person, you shake hands. At some stage, if you see the person often or become close, you stop touching and just say hello when you meet. Then at some stage you may become so close that you hug the person when you meet. This algorithm I've learned. I've also learned that sometimes you don't hug a person that you've hugged before because you saw him or her recently. But sometimes it becomes more complicated than that. Maybe you hug upon arrival but not when you leave. Or the other way around. Or both. Or neither, even though you didn't see these hugable people for a long time. Please teach me the algorithm!
Ending e-mails is a similar story. The Danish greetings are different from the English greetings, of course, but the idea would be more or less the same: From 'sincerely' over 'best regards' and no greeting - just the name, to 'with love' (in Danish the abbreviated form is rather common) or maybe 'hugs', there is a development of increasing proximity. But what does it mean when a colleague writes 'with love' one week and simply 'regards' the next? When a friend moves from 'hugs' to 'with love' to 'best regards'? When a person I never met before ends their e-mail 'with love'? THAT algorithm is not installed on my computer! I've got my own but I am not sure it works to the purpose. To colleagues I write 'best regards', to friends 'with love', except for the selected few that receive 'hugs' from me. My algorithm works, most of the time, but it feels like speaking very broken French to French-speaking people. The risk of making mistakes, also offensive mistakes, is rather high, and there is nothing I can do, because nobody taught me the algorithm.
Thursday, 25 October 2012
View from a bridge
I found this picture on the internet:
The source is allposters.co.uk, although the painting is by the Norwegian painter Edvard Munch. The girl in the white dress is with the others but alone, she is in the same place but sees different things. The title of the painting is not 'girls on a bridge', but 'girl on a bridge'.
Somehow we are always on a bridge, always developing from one state to another. From child to adult, from being a child to having a child, etc. The bridge I stand on these days goes from the country of fitting in to the country of not fitting in at all. From the place of people to the place of solitude. From the average to the odd. From NT-land to Aspie-land.
And I have to find my way, my place on the bridge. Should I accept being part of a team at work, or should I do my best to avoid it? Should I join the others for a Friday beer or should I close my office door and stare at a spreadsheet? Should I call or e-mail? Should I respond to 'lets have coffee' or just 'forget' (I don't)?
Within the past few weeks some people that I've known for many years have asked if we should meet. A group of old colleagues have arranged to eat dinner at a (noisy) restaurant. Another former colleague wants to have coffee, well two former colleagues both want to have coffee. One of them I actually regard a close friend. I really like to have these people - and others - in my life. But I don't want to see them. In particular, I don't want to spent too much time outside my home and my workplace. I get exhausted by the noisy café. But I also know that that is the way we people socialise.
Something in me (but not the whole me) wants to run as fast as the white dress allows to the 'other' country. Kindly decline all invitations to gather. Cycle to work every morning, and cycle back every afternoon. Go shopping, cook, and after dinner open my computer and write long e-mails to all the people I like to have in my life, go on Facebook and comment at their photos, or communicate via text messages or even the chat function in wordfeud.
There's one part of real life socialising that I enjoy a lot though. I like having people over for dinner. If I am uncomfortable with our guests, I can always find something to do in the kitchen. And I am at home. My base. So my favourite place on that bridge would be a few steps away from the country of never seeing people in real life.
I tried to explain myself to my husband. I may have misunderstood, but I gathered that he felt that since I've fitted into social norms for 44 years, I might as well continue. It would, admittedly, make things much easier.
It is as if exploring my being different per se makes me more different. It is as if there's no turning back to the country of fitting in. And I think that scares me a little, and it scares my husband too. What if I turn into a hermit? Is that covered by 'for better for worse'? I don't know if I am about to turn into a hermit, I cross the bridge in my own speed and explore as I go.
The source is allposters.co.uk, although the painting is by the Norwegian painter Edvard Munch. The girl in the white dress is with the others but alone, she is in the same place but sees different things. The title of the painting is not 'girls on a bridge', but 'girl on a bridge'.
Somehow we are always on a bridge, always developing from one state to another. From child to adult, from being a child to having a child, etc. The bridge I stand on these days goes from the country of fitting in to the country of not fitting in at all. From the place of people to the place of solitude. From the average to the odd. From NT-land to Aspie-land.
And I have to find my way, my place on the bridge. Should I accept being part of a team at work, or should I do my best to avoid it? Should I join the others for a Friday beer or should I close my office door and stare at a spreadsheet? Should I call or e-mail? Should I respond to 'lets have coffee' or just 'forget' (I don't)?
Within the past few weeks some people that I've known for many years have asked if we should meet. A group of old colleagues have arranged to eat dinner at a (noisy) restaurant. Another former colleague wants to have coffee, well two former colleagues both want to have coffee. One of them I actually regard a close friend. I really like to have these people - and others - in my life. But I don't want to see them. In particular, I don't want to spent too much time outside my home and my workplace. I get exhausted by the noisy café. But I also know that that is the way we people socialise.
Something in me (but not the whole me) wants to run as fast as the white dress allows to the 'other' country. Kindly decline all invitations to gather. Cycle to work every morning, and cycle back every afternoon. Go shopping, cook, and after dinner open my computer and write long e-mails to all the people I like to have in my life, go on Facebook and comment at their photos, or communicate via text messages or even the chat function in wordfeud.
There's one part of real life socialising that I enjoy a lot though. I like having people over for dinner. If I am uncomfortable with our guests, I can always find something to do in the kitchen. And I am at home. My base. So my favourite place on that bridge would be a few steps away from the country of never seeing people in real life.
I tried to explain myself to my husband. I may have misunderstood, but I gathered that he felt that since I've fitted into social norms for 44 years, I might as well continue. It would, admittedly, make things much easier.
It is as if exploring my being different per se makes me more different. It is as if there's no turning back to the country of fitting in. And I think that scares me a little, and it scares my husband too. What if I turn into a hermit? Is that covered by 'for better for worse'? I don't know if I am about to turn into a hermit, I cross the bridge in my own speed and explore as I go.
Saturday, 20 October 2012
Beware of people
Several years ago, while I shared an office with another woman, my office-mate and I laughed at a power-point presentation entitled 'Engrish', which consisted of anglophone signs from China. The fun thing about it was of course that the Chinese made a lot of mistakes. I make mistakes myself when writing English, so for me it is OK to laugh (I hope). One of the signs were from the exit of a public transportation and it read: 'Beware of people'. The true meaning is obvious, nevertheless the actual sign was hilarious. So much so, that we printed it out, and tagged it to the exit of our office.
It was not just for fun though. Inside the office we were safe (I don't know how she felt about it, this is my rationing), we knew each other very well and we had our things there. We were in control. Outside the office we would meet our colleagues, our superior, or people visiting the institute. Our 'fear' of everything outside our wonderful office developed to the point of us buying an electric kettle and some instant coffee, so we didn't have to walk the 20 meters down the hall to the kitchen. Perhaps it was not fear but rather laziness. Not laziness of walking the 20 meters of course but laziness towards relating to the people we might meet on the way.
Why is it so hard to relate to colleagues in a corridor or while waiting for the coffee brewer? I experience the laziness still, in my present job. I have my own office, very close to the kitchen at work. I usually wait till there is noone there, before I go and fetch myself a cup of coffee. Sometimes I tell myself: what rubbish! and I get up and go to the kitchen before giving it any more thought. It's easier when I can hear a conversation that I know how to join in. E.g. if they talk about cakes, or cell phones, or children.
I think it is because I need a "haven". A place where I can retreat to. Where I am safe. I believe most people do, I just think this need is stronger with me than with others.
I feel the same way about my home. I long to go home and I don't want to leave my home. In particular, I don't want to go to other people's homes. When people are visiting us, I go and stay in the kitchen for as long as possible. And I know very well what is trigging me: I am not afraid of other places, I am uncomfortable around 'people'. Not strangers though, I don't have to relate to people in the line at the supermarket or people on the train. Only people I have to relate to. Colleagues, visitors, etc. Because I am uncertain about how to relate. If I talk to much, or too little, too loud or too soft. If I misunderstand irony or if I try to make a joke and it is just not funny.
A discipline that I never mastered is 'friendly teasing', when I say something 'nasty' to a person that is close to me. While I say: 'Dumbass', I really mean: 'I care about you', but I say 'Dumbass' instead to impress all the other people that listen. And quite often, the teasing is an exchange between me and my husband or me and a friend. And now I've given up. Firstly I don't get it before too late when I am being teased, and secondly when I try myself, it always comes out too hard and I hurt people I care about. So I have decided to resign from the friendly teasing.
It was not just for fun though. Inside the office we were safe (I don't know how she felt about it, this is my rationing), we knew each other very well and we had our things there. We were in control. Outside the office we would meet our colleagues, our superior, or people visiting the institute. Our 'fear' of everything outside our wonderful office developed to the point of us buying an electric kettle and some instant coffee, so we didn't have to walk the 20 meters down the hall to the kitchen. Perhaps it was not fear but rather laziness. Not laziness of walking the 20 meters of course but laziness towards relating to the people we might meet on the way.
Why is it so hard to relate to colleagues in a corridor or while waiting for the coffee brewer? I experience the laziness still, in my present job. I have my own office, very close to the kitchen at work. I usually wait till there is noone there, before I go and fetch myself a cup of coffee. Sometimes I tell myself: what rubbish! and I get up and go to the kitchen before giving it any more thought. It's easier when I can hear a conversation that I know how to join in. E.g. if they talk about cakes, or cell phones, or children.
I think it is because I need a "haven". A place where I can retreat to. Where I am safe. I believe most people do, I just think this need is stronger with me than with others.
I feel the same way about my home. I long to go home and I don't want to leave my home. In particular, I don't want to go to other people's homes. When people are visiting us, I go and stay in the kitchen for as long as possible. And I know very well what is trigging me: I am not afraid of other places, I am uncomfortable around 'people'. Not strangers though, I don't have to relate to people in the line at the supermarket or people on the train. Only people I have to relate to. Colleagues, visitors, etc. Because I am uncertain about how to relate. If I talk to much, or too little, too loud or too soft. If I misunderstand irony or if I try to make a joke and it is just not funny.
A discipline that I never mastered is 'friendly teasing', when I say something 'nasty' to a person that is close to me. While I say: 'Dumbass', I really mean: 'I care about you', but I say 'Dumbass' instead to impress all the other people that listen. And quite often, the teasing is an exchange between me and my husband or me and a friend. And now I've given up. Firstly I don't get it before too late when I am being teased, and secondly when I try myself, it always comes out too hard and I hurt people I care about. So I have decided to resign from the friendly teasing.
Monday, 15 October 2012
Groups and parties
While I went to primary school, team work started being popular. Pupils had to work in groups, new universities were founded and based on team work. Nobody questioned the benefits of team work. I understand from my children's school that the team dogma is still in place, and is still not being questioned.
I never really got used to it. In primary school I either took over the entire group, made all the decisions and did all the work. Or I sat in the corner and sulked. There was nothing in between. In high school I usually worked with one friend and that was OK. On my first day in university I became friends with Peter. We HAD to form teams in university, so Peter and I teamed up with different constellations. It only worked when it was just the two of us. And that worked because we had a clear division of labour: I was much better than Peter at the mathematical subjects, whereas he was better at words hence the more political subjects were his field. When other people were part of our group, I got confused and frustrated.
At times during my working life, I have had to put up with team work again. A few times I have been lucky and met another 'Peter', where the other person and I excelled in different areas. But more often that has not been the case, or the team had consisted of more than two people. And then the primary school history repeated itself. I took over everthing or I sulked in a corner.
I don't feel particularly well about parties either. The less chaotic the better, though. The annual Christmas party is a good example. Most often the party starts with a sports event, a city walk, or similar. During dinner, there are speeches, quizzes, competitions etc. All this time, I am fine. The mere existence of a schedule or a plan makes me relax. Also I know what is expected from me. I just have to participate, go with the flow... Then, after dinner, things get worse. The light is softened, the music made louder, and tables are being pushed aside so people can dance. No more schedule. If I happened to be engaged in a conversation, the loud music makes it difficult. And nobody asks me to dance. Not that I like to dance, but I don't like to sit alone and do nothing. If have no idea what to do and I can't find my friends because they are busy dancing and drinking. Since I don't dance and I don't drink, I am by all means 'not on board'. In recent years I have left the party at this time, deciding that nobody will notice that I am the only person under 60 to leave the party at about 9 pm. If they do, I make my voice hoarse and say that I have a sore throat. Which is not a lie because my throat gets sore from shouting over the music....
I never really got used to it. In primary school I either took over the entire group, made all the decisions and did all the work. Or I sat in the corner and sulked. There was nothing in between. In high school I usually worked with one friend and that was OK. On my first day in university I became friends with Peter. We HAD to form teams in university, so Peter and I teamed up with different constellations. It only worked when it was just the two of us. And that worked because we had a clear division of labour: I was much better than Peter at the mathematical subjects, whereas he was better at words hence the more political subjects were his field. When other people were part of our group, I got confused and frustrated.
At times during my working life, I have had to put up with team work again. A few times I have been lucky and met another 'Peter', where the other person and I excelled in different areas. But more often that has not been the case, or the team had consisted of more than two people. And then the primary school history repeated itself. I took over everthing or I sulked in a corner.
I don't feel particularly well about parties either. The less chaotic the better, though. The annual Christmas party is a good example. Most often the party starts with a sports event, a city walk, or similar. During dinner, there are speeches, quizzes, competitions etc. All this time, I am fine. The mere existence of a schedule or a plan makes me relax. Also I know what is expected from me. I just have to participate, go with the flow... Then, after dinner, things get worse. The light is softened, the music made louder, and tables are being pushed aside so people can dance. No more schedule. If I happened to be engaged in a conversation, the loud music makes it difficult. And nobody asks me to dance. Not that I like to dance, but I don't like to sit alone and do nothing. If have no idea what to do and I can't find my friends because they are busy dancing and drinking. Since I don't dance and I don't drink, I am by all means 'not on board'. In recent years I have left the party at this time, deciding that nobody will notice that I am the only person under 60 to leave the party at about 9 pm. If they do, I make my voice hoarse and say that I have a sore throat. Which is not a lie because my throat gets sore from shouting over the music....
Sunday, 14 October 2012
The social coach
In 2002 I was divorced. Two years later I met another man, known by my friends and my Danish blog as W. He was 44 when I met him, so calling him a 'boyfriend' somehow doesn't seem right. We went out for four years and a bit, and it was not a happy relationship. At least I wasn't happy. It was while I was seeing W, that child care professionals started talking about Asperger's in relation to my youngest son. I was rejecting them completely but W thought I should hear them out. He was a child professional himself and I suspect he talked on behalf of his profession. He also had a son (he still has I guess). His son went for regular tests, he has epilepsy, ADHD and maybe something else as well. The boy went to specialised daycare and education. Somebody also talked about Aspergers in relation to W's son.
W never managed to 'see himself from the outside', but his daughter and some of my friends suspected that he had Aspergers. Now I am certain that he does. Compared to him, I was more outgoing and socially ept. My own challenges were minor compared to his. Also, this was before my long period of self-development, where the Aspie-recognition is only the last step. And I have several years of practice in the fine art of almost fitting in. When I compare myself to W and to my mother, I see at least one major advantage of my own personality: I am friendly and tolerant and I have a positive way of thinking. My mother doesn't, and W didn't. Therefore people like me, and my probability of being accepted is much higher than theirs.
W used me as a social coach. His job as a teacher provided daily challenges, with peers not with the children, in the form of small-talk, smiling at people, making friends with people. And he changed his workplace rather often. Everywhere he ran into problems. And he told me about it and I tried to tell him what to do. I think it was his Aspergers combined with the personality: People saw him as rejecting and cross, and nobody wants to get to know a person like that. During the course of our relationship, the coaching part of our conversations grew in size and eventually there was no time for me to tell about my day or whatever I needed to talk about. Not that I really needed HIS advise on anything, his advise was very lousy. I was a bit annoyed with this development but I also enjoyed being of use.
I broke up with W, embarked on a development process, during which I discovered my own Aspie traits (as described), met my husband, and now I am here. My husband knows a lot of Aspies and he works with engineers, but he is not Asperger himself and definitely more socially ept than I am. I often want to ask him for advise in social situations but do not want our relationship to develop the way W's and mine did. I don't want to be W! Sometimes I can hear W's sentences in my head, and if I don't stop myself I'll talk like him. My husband never met W, so he wouldn't know, but I know...
W never managed to 'see himself from the outside', but his daughter and some of my friends suspected that he had Aspergers. Now I am certain that he does. Compared to him, I was more outgoing and socially ept. My own challenges were minor compared to his. Also, this was before my long period of self-development, where the Aspie-recognition is only the last step. And I have several years of practice in the fine art of almost fitting in. When I compare myself to W and to my mother, I see at least one major advantage of my own personality: I am friendly and tolerant and I have a positive way of thinking. My mother doesn't, and W didn't. Therefore people like me, and my probability of being accepted is much higher than theirs.
W used me as a social coach. His job as a teacher provided daily challenges, with peers not with the children, in the form of small-talk, smiling at people, making friends with people. And he changed his workplace rather often. Everywhere he ran into problems. And he told me about it and I tried to tell him what to do. I think it was his Aspergers combined with the personality: People saw him as rejecting and cross, and nobody wants to get to know a person like that. During the course of our relationship, the coaching part of our conversations grew in size and eventually there was no time for me to tell about my day or whatever I needed to talk about. Not that I really needed HIS advise on anything, his advise was very lousy. I was a bit annoyed with this development but I also enjoyed being of use.
I broke up with W, embarked on a development process, during which I discovered my own Aspie traits (as described), met my husband, and now I am here. My husband knows a lot of Aspies and he works with engineers, but he is not Asperger himself and definitely more socially ept than I am. I often want to ask him for advise in social situations but do not want our relationship to develop the way W's and mine did. I don't want to be W! Sometimes I can hear W's sentences in my head, and if I don't stop myself I'll talk like him. My husband never met W, so he wouldn't know, but I know...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)